


Greece/Lithuania Drabbles (HWD event)

by TakisAngel



Category: APH - Fandom, Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Artifacts, Drabble, Drabbles, Five, Hetalia, Hetalia writer's discord server, Human AU, Journey, London, M/M, Rare Pair, Water, aph, but hey they're cute so, collection of drabbles, event, greliet - Freeform, just a bunch of greliet drabbles tbh, not enough, prompts, ships, treasures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 04:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15573810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakisAngel/pseuds/TakisAngel
Summary: Over at HWD (Hetalia writers discord) they had a drabble event, so I thought I might as well write about a rare pair otp I have, Greece/Lithuania :P there are 5 drabbles, each 400 words long at the max. The prompts were: water, journey, treasures, five, and not enough!





	1. Water

Heracles was already in the water, having rushed in and fell down, pushing loose strands out of his hair. Pouting a bit, the drenched man watched from inside the sea as Toris tried to stifle his laughter. With hurt pride, the Greek stood up and said, "Okay, that's the last time I'm ever running again." He raised an eyebrow as Toris stalled on the beach, fingering one of the strings on his swimsuit. It made sense that a man from way up north would have trouble getting into the sea, but this was ridiculous.   
Toris was now ankle deep, but Heracles didn't come to this expensive resort to waffle around, he nonchalantly drifted close to the Lithuanian, and then quickly splashed him and bolted to deeper waters, smiling evilly as his boyfriend squeaked and looked at him in outrage. Already wet, the man crashed through the water and promptly caught up to the wide-eyed man, splashing him in the face before falling down like Heracles did, ignoring his laughter and the words, "See, NOW you're in the water!"


	2. Not Enough

The sun weaved through Toris’s hair, shining onto the bed they shared and highlighting the accents of their skin as Heracles held him close. The Greek was awake, but barely, in the way men are as their minds peels away from dreams and into reality, sun banging onto the eyelids for them to wake.  
He put one of the Lithuanian’s long strands of hair behind his ear, face catching a smile as Toris wormed closer to him in his sleep. It was this, the silent moments after the night had gone and it was just him and the man in front of him. It was this that made Heracles come back, back and back, because even though he always thought that he had finished, today was the last day, no more mornings of sun, Toris would smile at him and Heracles wanted to be here, in this bed, holding him. No amount of mornings would be enough. It was never enough.


	3. Treasures

It hit him in the gut, seeing those artifacts in glass. The Greek man traced the delicate carvings of marble statues and columns with his eyes, mouth dry. These were all from his homeland, the land of olives and cigarette smoke in the wind, of ruins thousands of years old. Yet here they sat, in London, in Birtitan, hundreds of kilometers away from home.   
His mother had been an archeologist. He probably could have name all the statues in the gallery, all the ones the soldiers of England stole from his home.   
Toris glanced at Heracles, and noticing how his fists were clenched and how his brow furrowed, something unsettling in the way he looked at the museum. He grabbed the man’s hand and squeezed, smiling softly at the Greek, who's angry expression melted upon seeing him.   
“What's wrong?” Toris asked, holding fast.  
“Nothing really.” He stared at the elaborate carvings in stone from the Parthenon. “Just a bunch of stolen treasures.”


	4. Five

They were sitting at the library, Toris on one side, studying and scratching out notes, and Heracles boredly reading a book about the history of insects in Tunisia. Sighing, he looked up from his insect book to the stressed out high schooler in front of him, and sighed. “Look, I get that you like to study, but why do you always have to stay here for hours? Can't we go out and have fun?”   
The Lithuanian gripped his pencil, pausing. “No one LIKES to study, Heracles.” He looked up as well, something intense in his glare. “I'm studying because anything less than a perfect 5 for my GPA will make my parents and my teachers disappointed, and I won't be able to get into my dream school. I need that 5, so I'm going to study in this library for as long as I damn well can!” he snapped, voice turning harsh at the end. He went back to his book, the air tense.   
Heracles’s mouth went dry as he felt pricks of guilt hit him. He should have known that. “I'm sorry Toris-”  
“Well that's FANTASTIC!” Toris seemed to explode, glaring at the surprised high schooler in front of him. “It's just fantastic how you think my work is cute, it's fantastic that you get A’s without even trying, it's just fantastic that you can go off and nap and read and do whatever you want! It's just fantastic!” His voice went high at the end, people staring at them from around the library. For one second, the stress of that 5, the weight of the books that he carried home everyday, the pull of his eyes as he stayed up late writing essays, it was all gone as he turned his anger on Heracles, who stood there shocked. And then that second was over, and the look of shock was replaced by hurt, and then coldness.   
Heracles didn't say a word of anger, of retaliation. He just left. Taking his books, the Greek stood up and walked away, leaving Toris alone with his books and papers, not seeing the tears in the boy’s eyes or how his hand on his pencil shook, guilt already filling his mind.   
He could reach his five alone.


	5. Journey

Adjusting his old school lute, the musician sat more comfortably in his nook under the trees, cats coming beside him to relax for a few moments. He was half dozing off when the musician was awoken by someone tapping him on the shoulder, and was greeted by the greenest pair of eyes he had ever seen, long hair brushing the stranger’s shoulders.   
“Um, excuse me,” he said, standing up straight, and the musician jumped to his feet, “How much for a song?”  
He blinked. “Uh, one copper.” The stranger's eyes lit up and he handed him a copper from a pouch of money, sitting on one of the stones and waiting for him to play.   
“What's your name?” he asked the stranger.   
“Toris. I'm traveling with my master, Lord Braginsky. What's yours?”  
“I have no master. My name is Heracles, however.” He strummed a chord, and Toris smiled. What a pretty smile he had. “What song do you want?”   
“Hm.” He thought for a moment. “Do you know the Red Traveler’s tale?”   
Heracles nodded, smiling the tiniest bit as he played an old favorite. For the two of them, he played a song of a traveler and his journey, the stranger with the touching smile listening, a brief moment between them, his journey pausing just for a moment, to hear a sweet tune from a handsome musician under the shade of a tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all of them! Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
